Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
Come swish around my pretty punk And keep me dancing still That I may stay a sober man Although I drink my fill.
The rugged trees are mingling Their flowery sprays in love; The ivy climbs the laurel To clasp the boughs above.
Blind unbelief is sure to err, And scan his work in vain; God is his own interpreter, And he will make it plain.
I seem forsaken and alone, / I hear the lion roar; / And every door is shut but one, / And that is Mercy's door.
A glory gilds the sacred page, Majestic like the sun, It gives a light to every age, It gives, but borrows none.
Life is worth Living Through every grain of it, From the foundations To the last edge Of the cornerstone, death.
Absence doth sharpen love, presence strengthens it; the one brings fuel, the other blows it till it burns clear.
Bow, stubborn knees, and, heart with strings of steel, Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe. All many be well.
Sweet recreation barred, what doth ensue but moody and dull melancholy, kinsman to grim and comfortless despair.
Sweet are the uses of adversity which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, wears yet a precious jewel in his head.
To move wild laughter in the throat of death? It cannot be; it is impossible: Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.
For my part, I may speak it to my shame, I have a truant been to chivalry; And so I hear he doth account me too.
Up and down, up and down I will lead them up and down I am feared in field in town Goblin, lead them up and down
Avarice is the most oppose of all characters to that of God Almighty, whose alone it is to give and not receive.
On from room to room I stray,Yet mine Host can ne'er espy,And I know not to this day,Whether guest or captive I.
God was finally going to believe in a man both good and strong, but good and strong are still two different men.
I'd have to be really quick to describe clouds - a split second's enough for them to start being something else.
And if the City falls and one survives he shall carry the City within on the roads of exile he shall be the City
They say my verse is sad: no wonder; Its narrow measure spans Tears of eternity, and sorrow, Not mine. but man's.
When I am sad and wearyWhen I think all hope has goneWhen I walk along High HolbornI think of you with nothing on
I believe in one Gnostic and Catholic Church of Light, Life, Love and Liberty, the Word of whose Law is THELEMA .
In my song you catch at times Note sweeter far than mine, And in the tangle of my rhymes Can scent the eglantine.
Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar When I put out to sea.
Her court was pure, her life serene; God gave her peace; her land reposed; A thousand claims to reverence closed.
Oh, grown-ups cannot understand, And grown-ups never will, How short the way to fairyland Across the purple hill.
If love were what the rose is, And I were like the leaf, Our lives would grow together In sad or singing weather.
I would say that Times Square was the central hangout for Burroughs, Kerouac, and myself from about 1945 to 1948.
I switch between fixed forms and free verse often, and enjoy being a poet who can "swing both ways," so to speak.
Sexual love is the most stupendous fact of the universe, and the most magical mystery our poor blind senses know.
He flattered himself on being a man without any prejudices; and this pretension itself is a very great prejudice.
The finest words in the world are only vain sounds if you can't understand them. The best sentence? The shortest.
Men are not created to know, men are not created to understand ... and our illusions increase with our knowledge.
Heresy is the lifeblood of religions. It is faith that begets heresies. There are no heresies in a dead religion.
Either a wise man will not go into bunkers, or, being in, he will endure such things as befall him with patience.
You are quite the beauty. If no one has ever told you that before, know that right now. You are quite the beauty.
God wove a web of loveliness, Of clouds and stars and birds, But made not anything at all, So beautiful as words.
We are America. We are the coffin fillers. We are the grocers of death. We pack them in crates like cauliflowers.
I am not lazy. I am on the amphetamine of the soul. I am, each day, typing out the God my typewriter believes in.
When they turn the sun on again I'll plant children under it, I'll light up my soul with a match and let it sing.
My death from the wrists, two name tags, blood worn like a corsage to bloom one on the left and one on the right.
I remain loyal to Bach, Mozart, Beethoven and Schubert in music and to Shakespeare and Jane Austen in literature.
The unpublished manuscript is like an uncon-fessed sin that festers in the soul, corrupting and contaminating it.
Whatever I take, I take too much or too little; I do not take the exact amount. The exact amount is no use to me.
Piety's hard enough to take among the poor who have to practice it. A rich man's piety stinks. It's insufferable.
I went to London because, for me, it was the home of literature. I went there because of Dickens and Shakespeare.
Some men, like modern shops, hang everything in their show windows; when one goes inside, nothing is to be found.
Oh! Moon of Alabama We now must say good-bye We've lost our good old mama And must have whiskey Oh, you know why!
It seems only yesterday I used to believe there was nothing under my skin but light. If you cut me I could shine.
Superheroes allow their capes to hang off their backs; but our Superwomen choose to wrap them around their heads.
If one were forced to select a single word to exemplify Bishop's peculiar charm and power, it might well be 'No.'